


Flip-flops and speedos

by Kissa



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Grey-Asexual Bucky Barnes, Grey-Asexual Steve Rogers, M/M, Mention of torture, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6980380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky decide they need to fall off the radar for a while and Bucky knows exactly where they can do that. The place comes with its own big batch of challenges for Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finis Terrae

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Romanian and I watched the Bucharest scene in "Civil War" with great delight, but I couldn't help but remark to myself that it's completely possible to disappear in Romania, as long as you don't stay in the very capital where even stray dogs have smartphones. Also, adapting to all the ways living in Romania is different from living anywhere else in the West would put Steve in all sorts of cute situations. Bucky, of course, can blend in, he even speaks the language and he can teach Steve too. I haven't decided yet if there's going to be any explicit scenes in the story or if I should keep it very light. Perhaps you can view this chapter as a writing sample and let me know in a comment if you'd like this to turn into adult!Stucky.

King T’Challa had some mighty skilled medical specialists, so Steve had barely had the time to piece together a new identity before he received a message with the royal Wakandan seal, in which he was being told that he could have his friend back. 

It seemed too good to be true, but it was. They had even found a way to replace the arm. This time, the job was done more artfully than the butchering Hydra had done. They had removed the necrotic tissue and they had properly sealed the edges before doing the nerve to circuit connections. The new arm was no longer a part of Bucky in a way that would cripple him if removed. He would never feel pain like the one he had felt when Tony had ripped his arm off, together with the slowly decaying stump that had been lodged inside the metal socket. Now, if he did lose the new arm, he could just have it replaced.

There were some downsides to the new situation, since the new arm, though fully functional and easily operated via a neural implant, was not weapons-grade, and was only able to slightly outperform Bucky’s other arm. 

Steve would know how much of a downside that was when he saw Bucky again. It all hinged on how Bucky felt. 

He was first met by T’Challa at his private home, away from the palace, and Steve was told he could call the place his home whenever he was in Wakanda. After a shower and some dinner, he asked to see Bucky and the graceful king indulged his impatience with a smile. 

When they arrived at the cryo facility, T’Challa held Steve back at first, so they could watch Bucky through a large mirror wall. Bucky was currently beating Okoye at a very ambitious game of darts, with his new arm. 

Bucky had marksmanship in his blood, and Steve never got tired of watching him use his innate skill. 

Back when they’d been only two kids in Brooklyn, Steve had drawn countless sketches of Bucky every time they were together. His older friend had such a grace and elegance to his movements, such a beautifully reined-in force that never came out to play except if Steve was threatened. Bucky had always been the iron fist in a velvet glove, and what a perversion of that Hydra had made. Steve cringed in pain at the thought and shook the memories off with a physical shudder. 

King T’challa asked him if he was ready to meet his friend and Steve nodded, his lips tightened into a stern line. 

He walked into the room in the king’s wake. Bucky and Okoye noticed them right away and bowed their heads in greeting to the king, and as soon as T’Challa smiled and acknowledged them, Bucky flew at Steve, hugging him tightly and for long moments. 

Steve melted inside and hugged back, happy that parts of the Bucky who had gone to war seemed to have returned. It was so refreshing to hug his friend from another time and not have to do the awkward mimicked fight of hugging with one arm while patting the other’s back forcefully with the other whereas the bodies could under no circumstance touch anywhere from the shoulders down, so as not to be GAAAAAY! The first time Sam had hugged him like that and had explained the dynamics of “no homo”, Steve had laughed himself silly. The modern world had made immense strides forward, but humanity was shooting itself in the leg by taking steps way backward in the most important parts of life. 

“I’ll never get used to you being so big. You used to fit so well under my chin. Now I can barely hug you properly.” Bucky quietly remarked, with that playful smile he reserved for Steve. 

T’Challa and Okoye left, giving the two some time to catch up. 

“We cannot stay here,” Bucky said in a whisper. “I don’t want to bring war to this country.”

“It’s going to be tricky to find a place that isn’t crawling with Ross’ spies… ex Hydra agents looking for a bargaining chip and so on.” Steve remarked. “And I am not moving to Siberia.” 

“I know a place where no one will come looking. The place has such a bad rep even Natasha won’t set foot there,” Bucky said. “It’s literally the asshole of the universe, with a paradise island in the middle.” 

Steve took some time to figure out which place Bucky meant and then rolled his eyes. “NO! No way! They found you so fast in Bucharest.” 

“I am not talking about Bucharest! Everyone there is potentially a snitch with a smartphone. I’m talking about a place at the seaside, where there’s no wi-fi or electricity unless you build the stuff yourself. I can do that for us, easily. But I gotta warn you, it’s gonna be… rural.” 

“It can’t be worse than the rat hole that made my mom ill in Brooklyn. Anything is better than that crypt with a view.”

“I’ll show you what I mean. Not on the internet, of course, because the Google car doesn’t drive to there since, you know, there’s no paved roads.” 

At this point Steve was on the verge of being on board. The place sounded good, and it promised some much needed peace for the two of them. Running from 117 governments and their secret services could get tiresome even for enhanced soldiers. 

“Alright, we’re going,” Steve gave in. “But I am warning you, I don’t speak one iota of Romanian.” 

Bucky smiled softly. He really hoped Steve would like it there. He himself had not been to the place he’d spoken of. He had only dreamt of it while in stasis and extensive research during waking time had helped pinpoint the spot. They had gotten the Winter Soldier out of his head, but the treatments had not affected his habits and muscle memory, the stuff that had become reflexes. 

They traveled by boat, which meant the fewest and least reinforced borders; they had gotten fake documents and makeovers. As far as anyone else cared, they were two young athletes looking for a place to recover between competitions. Bucky had come up with the names on their papers, to make sure they blended in just enough for their cover to hold. Steve was Szép István and Bucky had gone with Pușcașu Iacov, two very common names in Romania, where many ethnicities lived scattered beyond their historical regions. Two names that meant “Pretty Steve” and “Sniper James”, to Bucky’s perpetual private delight. 

They arrived in the small town of Eforie Sud after a Turkish commercial boat had brought them to Constanța. From the harbour, they had taken a bus into town, where Bucky had gotten them a car. Not a new car, not a foreign model, so as not to tempt the opportunistic thieves, but a decent and sturdy set of wheels in the shape of a two-year Dacia Sandero Stepway, a car which could easily brave the dirt roads of their new home town. 

All through the journey, Steve had reined in his worries. Bucky seemed so carefree and could even sleep, whether at sea or on different transfer cars or buses. 

If only Steve had known that Bucky felt cherophobic at the best of times, incredulous of this new stage in his life where he wasn’t being injected, tested, beaten, frozen, used and neglected. So to him, even the two pairs of Shang Liang rubber flip flops he got from a streetside saleswoman were like a Hallmark card from God. 

At first, they stayed in a woman’s villa in the old neighbourhood, between the sea and the huge salty lake. Theirs was a simple room with its own bathroom, although for showering they had to go to the end of the hallway and use the communal bathroom with shower heads on the walls and drains in the floor. But it was all very clean, and Steve chided himself internally for having expected it not to be. They had access to the villa’s massive kitchen and they could cook there and use the cutlery, pots, pans and dishes as long as they also washed them when they were done, which was fair. 

Money was not an issue, because T’Challa had issued them each cards with access to Wakanda-registered bank accounts. However, they both knew they had to be careful with the kind and number of their purchases, so as not to draw suspicion. Besides, Steve and Bucky had grown up in very poor families, and they had seldom spent recklessly. But the cards were great help for paying the rent in advance for a whole 6 months and to buy the owner of the villa a big basket of flowers. The ample lady had blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl when Steve had handed her the basket and Bucky had exchanged words with her which had made her blush and giggle harder. 

The room had two beds, not very comfortable, but at least bug-free and smelling fresh. The first thing Steve wanted to do was shower the long days of travel off of himself. 

They were just settling in and they had to make do with the little they had taken along in their two backpacks. Thanks to Steve’s foresight, they had towels and clean underwear to last them until they could buy some new things, and Bucky had already gone shopping in town, getting them some sensible stuff like soap, toothbrushes and swimsuits. 

Steve was left agape when Bucky produced the items from the plastic bag he’d gotten from the store. He recognized the soap and the toothbrushes, but what Bucky was currently holding were not men’s swimsuits, they were cocksocks at best.

Well, he was exaggerating. They were normal speedos, just really tiny and he was sure he would feel really exposed wearing that. 

But he decided to follow Bucky’s lead, especially since Bucky saw his shock and laughed softly. 

“Everyone’s going to know we’re Americans if we wear the long trunks. Every man wears these here. It’s summer, so all you ever need are flipflops, these babies and a shirt. Maybe a hat, if you’re out at noon. And only at the seaside beach. The lakeside one is for nudists,” Bucky explained, then put a towel on his shoulder and headed out. “I’m going to have a shower, you might want to come along or there won’t be enough warm water left.”

Steve hurried after him. So many of the things that made life easy back in the USA were absent here. He suddenly appreciated the idea of a pleasantly warm shower a lot more than ever before. 

He gasped loudly in the shower room though, when he first saw the extent and number of scars on Bucky’s body. Obviously these had all been things done to him before the serum, so he imagined the pain and the loneliness Bucky must have felt while all those things were done to him without any mercy whatsoever. He turned the shower on and stepped under the spray before Bucky could see his tears and before the quiet crying turned into sobs.


	2. Soare pe dinăuntru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While chilling in Romania, Bucky and Steve finally have a talk that was seventy-five years overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter means "sun on the inside" in Romanian. Kinda how Steve feels now that Bucky's back and right next to him.

The new arm looked badass as hell, Steve thought, watching Bucky dry himself off after the shower. But more importantly, Bucky was able to use it a lot better than the Hydra-issue arm and he was no longer in pain.  
  
Bucky saw him look and gave him an apologetic smile. “I guess my being naked should come with a sort of warning.”  
  
“It’s not that, God, Buck-” Steve rushed to clarify. “I’m not disgusted, I just… there’s so much scarring. All this, they must have done to you before the serum.”  
  
Bucky put the towel on the wall hook and stood unselfconsciously before Steve, looking down.  
  
“They just carved away, opened, peeled and cut… I was awake through most of it and… and I was screaming, but no one cared. They never stopped. My heart stopped several times and they just restarted it with drugs.”  
  
He was talking with grim detachment, as though telling someone else’s story. His eyes were unfocused and swimming in tears that refused to spill.    
  
Steve gasped. He knew he wouldn’t have survived through a fraction of what had been done to Bucky. Just hearing about those horrors was too much for him, but he owed it to his friend to listen. The more Bucky revealed, the more Steve blamed himself for letting it happen to the one person in the whole world who meant everything to him. Seeing Stark try to murder his wounded and disarmed friend had unleashed the dark side in him, to an extent he had never suspected. He was still boiling inside, ready to set fire to the whole world to protect Bucky, who didn’t deserve any of the pain and loneliness he’d been dealt.  
  
He moved closer and wrapped his arms around Bucky, guiding his head to his shoulder and enveloping him in a full-body hug, his hand gently caressing the back of Bucky’s head.  
  
Bucky not only allowed the gesture, he also welcomed it and sank into it. At some point though, Steve felt him smile against his shoulder.  
  
“By definition, this is the gayest thing.” Bucky said, lifting his head so he could look at Steve. When the blond looked at him in confusion, he explained further: “it’s not gay unless the cocks are touching. I heard that on SNL I think.” He added with a small giggle.  
  
Steve was confused at first, by how eager Bucky was to hijack his attempt at comfort and turn it into a laugh. But then it occurred to him that maybe Bucky needed this, maybe this was his way of dealing with all the shit weighing on him. It wasn’t wrong, if it helped.  
  
“So, um, according to that rule, anal sex is not gay because the cocks aren’t touching?” He asked, looking serious.  
  
“Convenient, wouldn’t you say?” Bucky gave back. “Though we should finish up here before someone else comes.”  
  
Steve nodded and pulled away, finishing drying off. Seeing Bucky change into his miniscule speedo and tucking himself into it expertly, Steve took the challenge and reached for his own speedo. When everything was in place, he felt pleasantly supported and contained, having to admit that it wasn’t as bad as he had thought. Wearing that thing gave him confidence, and besides, they were in a beach village and it was summer time, everyone was showing a lot of skin.  
  
Bucky gave an appreciative whistle at seeing Steve in the blue, white and red speedo.  
  
Steve cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Right back at you, pal.”  
  
Bucky did have extensive scarring and yes, he was stockier and wider, but his muscles were bigger too and Steve liked that. Where he was trim and tight like a swimmer, Bucky was thick and ripped like a cage fighter and Steve could look at him forever. Maybe later he would buy paper and pencils and even draw Bucky.

 Before they left for the beach, Bucky rummaged through his rucksack and fished out a small shiny object, showing it to Steve. “Check this out,” he said, pressing a point on his prosthetic arm, which opened a slot for the small object. Bucky placed it into the slot and the arm whirred and glowed for a split-second, then phased into a detailed mirror copy of Bucky’s flesh arm.  
  
Steve’s jaw slackened as he watched. “What devilry is this? Is it permanent?” He asked.  
  
“I can wear it as long as I want. I can go swimming. We can go to the beach and tan without my scaring everyone there. Courtesy of King T’Challa and Wakandan technology.”

  
“It’s amazing, Bucky,” Steve whispered. “How do you feel?”  
  
Bucky inhaled deeply.  
  
“Free, Steve.”  
  
The scarring on his flesh was still there, but that was OK, it was plausible, people sustained burns and had accidents that left them scarred, and no one held it against them if they still wanted to shed the threads at the beach.  
  
They grabbed their beach towels and slippers and headed for the beach without a care in the world, walking side by side and talking.  
  
Steve could not get enough of looking at Bucky, of drinking in the image of his other half looking happy and free. This was all like a good dream he never wanted to wake up from.  
  
They would never run out of things to talk about, although silences between them  were comfortable and meaningful too.  
  
Before the war, while Steve had been a flimsy little thing, Bucky had told him that no matter what came their way, Steve would always be his everything. Soulmates didn’t have to be the ones you married and had kids with. The certainty with which Bucky had spoken had given Steve the courage to meet him halfway and admit that Bucky was his whole world too.  
  
It had been reassuring for the both of them, to have said those things out loud; to always be ready to repeat them and elaborate when one of them needed to hear them. This was their world, something so vast and precious that they kept it hidden from the others, who only saw two friends in it for the long run.  
  
There had been girls, and dates, and fumblings, and Bucky had often come home at dawn, with lipstick on his collar, but Steve had never minded. Bucky was always so calculated and controlled when dancing or flirting with the girls, like a masterful actor delivering the most convincing performance. He never had to pretend liking the girls, because he really did. But the skirt chaser image, the howling wolf, the rude and raw man’s man - those were roles that Bucky had to perform just to be allowed his place in their world.  
  
Bucky had been gorgeous since they were kids. Growing up, he had filled out beautifully, putting to shame the perfectly carved statues from Steve’s art books. And his beauty had been a heavy curse, because the world wanted to hold him tight, call Bucky their own; they wanted to touch him with greedy hands and lips and in all the ways they could think of. Men envied him and women craved him. Never in a million years had anyone stopped to ask Bucky if he wished to be claimed and whisked up in the whirlpool of lewd encounters and stolen touches in the dark behind the dancehall.  
  
Bucky had only ever wanted to be around Steve. He used to be so careful with his looks - his hair always done, his skin always smelling clean and fresh even after a day’s hard work, his clothes clean and his trouser lines ironed sharper than two sword blades. Not to seduce and reap praise, but simply to feel good in his skin.  
  
Steve thought fondly of Bucky right before the war, the most beautiful creation he’d ever laid eyes on, with a smile that could raise the dead and heal the agonising. Bucky was harsh and aggressive with the entire world because he had to; he was expected to, otherwise the greedy hands would rip him apart and consume him, then discard him, broken, like they did with all objects of desire.  
  
And the most beautiful thing about Bucky was his soft, gentle heart, his radiant presence which only shone for Steve. Had the war never happened, Steve knew that Bucky would have built them a house from the ground up with his bare hands and a toolbox. Everything Bucky touched healed, grew and thrived. His hands were strong and calloused, but so light and graceful, and skilled. He had built a radio from scraps for Steve to listen to while he was at work; he had made a rocking chair out of pallets and a small indoor garden where he had planted tomatoes, peppers and herbs.  
  
But the rest of the world had no use for Bucky’s talents for building. The Army had taken him away for his ability to always hit his mark, regardless of conditions or distractions. He’d made Sergeant in no-time. And that was when Bucky had begun to die. Steve had noticed it gradually, like a light bulb dimming from one day to the next.  
  
Bucky falling off the train into the white abyss had been only the end to a slow torture and Steve had never been able to be grateful for it. He’d never thought of Bucky having found peace in death. Bucky so, so wanted to live and love, he had so much to give the world and Steve, but the world had taken him apart strand by strand, because what else did a poor Brooklyn kid have to offer except for a textbook death in a war no one had asked for?  
  
And now Bucky was with him again, flesh and blood and yes, metal too, but he was alive and he remembered, and he wanted so much to seize this second chance at peace and life away from constant fights and killings.  
  
Steve came back into the present fully and reached for Bucky’s hand, squeezing it softly. Bucky looked at him, pleasantly surprised, enveloping Steve in that quiet, warm love that made Steve feel completely alive.  
  
They got to the beach and got a locker to put their things in, so they could go for a run along the seven different gulfs stretching between the village and Constanța.

The few people who were still on the beach at that hour saw two gorgeous and ripped young men running along the shore, a common sight in that holiday village, and no one thought anything of them past the standard admiration and slight envy at their sculpted bodies.  
  
They didn’t run all the way to the shipyard and at some point they turned around, spurring each other on. This felt so good, using their bodies and exerting themselves doing something completely benign and harmless just for the sheer fun of it.  
  
They returned to the starting point and Steve got their things out of the locker, spreading a big, square beach towel on the sand and gesturing for Bucky to lie down. The sun was no longer at peak position and its rays were gentle and pleasant on their slightly heated skins. A small breeze was blowing, announcing the approaching evening.  
  
Steve sat down, his arms encircling his flexed knees. Bucky lay down on his back, his arms folded so his hands were a pillow for his head. The silence between them was light.  
  
“The soviets were decent,” Bucky said all of a sudden.  
  
“I’m sorry, what-” Steve asked. “You don’t have to tell me anything, you don’t owe me a detailed account.”  
  
“But I want to. I need you to know.” Bucky said.  
  
“I’m listening.”  
  
“Hydra were monsters in human masks. Not just the Red Skull. Each and every single one of them was cruel in ways I still can’t even fully grasp. The things they did to me just to see how much they could push a human body; the experiments they carried out and the electroshocks. Did you know that they had no idea at first how to brainwash someone in a practical amount of time? They perfected that on me. They tried everything. Beatings. Sensory deprivation. Partial exsanguination. Various drugs and poisons. Starvation."   
  
Steve was trembling where he sat and his fists were clenching hard, his knuckles white and his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm deep enough to draw blood. But he said nothing (not like there was anything he could say that would help), letting Bucky continue and stop on his own when he wanted to.  
  
“At some point, they broke me. The electroshocks and the drugs started working. I carried out several missions flawlessly, returning to base on my own and letting them freeze me. Then, the next time I woke up, I had new handlers. Soviet officers from the Hydra branch that had infiltrated the KGB. The “beautiful parasite” model worked more than once. They were amazed at having an advanced weapon in their possession. They did not see me as human at all. Among themselves, they were absolutely normal - talking about weekend plans, showing each other private photos, joking. But never with me. Except this one tech, who did maintenance on me. She was a two-meter tall armoire, an albino woman called Liubov… Liubov Leonova. Officer Harkov. She was in charge of my physical condition, washing me, feeding me, lasering my body hair off, clothing me, that sort of thing. She was massive and she used to handle me like I was a ragdoll. She could have been brutal, but she wasn’t. She was patient and she touched me firmly, but not violently. She taught me Russian while she fed me. I never even thought of disobeying her. Then there was Colonel Karpov. He was handsome and glacially polite, even in the midst of fighting. When the other Winter Soldiers rebelled and started a massacre in the Siberian compound, he ordered me to get him out from their midst and once I’d done that, he put his forehead to mine and smoothed my hair, saying “thank you”. He always praised me after missions and he always greeted me. It mattered, you know? In those moments, I felt… I felt like more than a weapon. It was little, but it was _something_ .”  
  
Bucky paused, looking up at his friend. “Steve?”  
  
Steve turned to look at Bucky and removed his shades. He looked like he was never going to be alright again and Bucky’s heart broke a bit more. But Steve had to know that the good-humoured and charming roommate from Brooklyn would no longer come back. He had to know _why_ and where young Bucky had disappeared off to. _Hell_ .

“The American branch was the worst. Pierce was a sadist. He had this fantasy that, the more he hurt and degraded me, the more of a horrible revelation it would be to you once you figured out whom they were sending to kill you. I guess he was shocked to see that, despite being out of place and out of time in the new century, you were still a good man in a world where the most powerful are easily corrupted and blackmailed. He expected you to be a grandiose narcissist, someone easily manipulated. I was kind of bummed that I didn’t get to murder him myself. I fantasized about it for a while. I was going to do it with my bare hands, slowly. And then I read Fury finished him off and I was angry for a while. He got a sweet deal, a swift death.”  
  
“There is no vengeance that will make up for everything they did to you, Bucky,” Steve said. “Except maybe recovering and getting your life back, one moment at a time.”  
  
“Yeah… if I never have to touch a gun in my life, I’ll consider myself lucky.” Bucky said, closing his eyes again.  
  
“I never got to tell you… I really love it here,” Steve said, coming down to recline near Bucky. “This really is a slice of heaven,” he added, burying his toes in the sand past the edge of the towel. “It’s remote and wild, but not disconnected. And people leave us alone. But I would have followed you anywhere. You’re the only home I know.”  
  
“Stevie…” Bucky said, his voice breaking. His best friend now had the body of a god, but inside he’d remained the same little ball of righteous anger and casual poetry. Anyone else would have called him out on being a huge sap, but for Bucky, the way Steve bared his heart to him was precious like nothing else in the world. “You’re my home too.”

 

Steve rested his hand on Bucky’s chest, his thumb gently tracing some of his scars.  
  
“Steve, I…” Bucky began, looking at Steve’s fingers.  
  
Bucky never stuttered or hesitated.  
  
Steve immediately removed his hand from Bucky’s skin.  
  
“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable or brought back bad memories.” He said.  
  
“No, it’s not that! You of all people can touch me all you want, I love it when you do.” Bucky said quickly. “I do need to say something though, before I lose my nerve.”  
  
Steve nodded and caressed down Bucky’s chest encouragingly. There was nothing that Bucky could tell him, that would scar him more than the accounts of what Hydra had done to his best friend.  
  
“I… uh… I’m asexual. I had no idea what to call it until recently, when I read online that there’s a name for it and that it’s OK to be this way. Before I used to think of myself as just broken, and I did my best to hide it. I went out with girls, kissed them, put my hand under their skirts but… I never got into it. I’d end dates early to come home and hang out with you, hearing you talk about stuff and letting you draw me.”  
  
Steve nodded. It was a familiar feeling for him, as he hadn’t been worried at all when everyone he knew got it on, while he hadn’t even been kissed. He found people attractive in general, looking at them with an artist’s eye, wanting to capture their quirks, their distinctive features, the glint in their eyes… but not wanting anything else. He thought Bucky was absolute perfection, his breath hitched in his throat when Bucky looked at him or said the smallest thing to him. Bucky could have anything he asked for, though.  
  
“I can relate, Buck. I felt the same, and I even had the perverse luxury of being dismissable so I could hide behind being small. No one pressured me to do stuff with the dames because they’d look at me and be like “this wee thing won’t live to see next summer, what’s the use?” and I was fine with it. I just knew that I loved you. Still do, with all my heart. I loved Peggy too, but I was scared of the time when we’d get serious and I’d be expected to… I don’t know. I guess she would have understood. She was awesome like that. But I couldn’t hold her back. She got a better deal in the end.”  
  
“Steve, you are the best deal anyone can get! Oh my God, Stevie. We’re not broken, you and I. I love you too, although on a good day I feel unworthy as hell. Like, I remember who I was before the war. During the Howling Commando missions. Now I’m just… leftovers.”  
  
“Don’t say that, Buck. You’re beautiful and strong and worth the world to me,” Steve reassured his friend. “I’ve never felt safer and more loved than I do with you, every minute of every day. Even when we fight, it’s loving.”  
  
Bucky nodded, a small smile rushing across his features. “Yeah, our fights are great. I can never stay mad at you. We always end up cuddling.”  
  
“I’m so OK with never wanting anyone but you close to me.” Steve said, lying down next to Bucky and replicating his position.

“Same. But, Steve? Do you think we could try stuff? I’m actually curious and wanna see what it’s like, if it’s with you.” Bucky said, looking up at the sky. 

“Yeah. And if it’s awkward it’ll be alright. And no big loss. I already have all I need to be happy here with you. We’ll go easy. It will be nice, too, if it’s with you.”  
  
Bucky held up his right hand and gestured for Steve to give him his. He took Steve’s hand and laced their fingers together.  
  
“Deal,” he said. “But first we’re moving somewhere nicer.”  
  
“Deal.”  
  
For now, they lay there on their beach towel, holding hands and not speaking. All the important things had been said. The cool evening breeze was caressing their heated skins and the setting sun painted everything golden.  
  
Steve felt like his heart would overflow with happiness from how perfect that moment was. This, this right here, being alone with Bucky at the end of the world, this had been worth every sacrifice and every risk.

 


End file.
